“It’s not you. Some other time, if you would, we might talk about it.”
“You dance well … far better than I.”
“I don’t notice you having any trouble, and you haven’t stepped on my shoes the way Uncle Rham did.”
“That’s because I’m following the hints you give.”
For a moment, Kyedra stiffens.
“I mean, if I start to go the wrong way, you move away. So I just stay with you.”
“You can sense that?” There is a hint of surprise in her voice.
“If I pay attention, and I’m trying very hard to do that.”
A smile crosses her face, and Lerial can’t help but smile back. He says, “You have a lovely smile.”
“I suppose you tell all the women that.”
Lerial manages not to frown as he considers the question. “No. I’ve only told my cousin that.”
“You actually thought about it. I’m flattered. Or were you thinking about who else you said that to and whether I’d find out?”
“I haven’t told anyone that they have a lovely smile except Amaira.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m particular, I suppose.”
“What about women who did and you didn’t tell?”
“Majer Altyrn’s consort has a lovely smile, but she’s almost old enough to be my mother.”
“And you’re comparing me to her?”
Lerial grins, then says slowly, “Well … there are some similarities…”
Kyedra laughs. “I like that.”
As the music comes to an end, Lerial guides her back to where Rhamuel and Haesychya stand, then inclines his head. “Thank you.”
“Thank you.” There is just the slightest emphasis on the word “you.”
Mykel steps up to take Kyedra’s hand, and Lerial moves away.
For the next glass or so, Lerial dances with a number of women, ranging in age from unconsorted girls to dowagers with white hair, making certain to dance only once with each, and being careful to limit his comments to pleasantries. He sees both Oestyn and Mykel dancing with a number of women, but notes that neither Atroyan nor Rhamuel—nor Haesychya—dance that often.
Then, Lerial notices Dafaal moving across the ballroom to Rhamuel. The functionary leans toward the arms-commander and says something. Rhamuel nods, and the two walk toward the ballroom entry. Lerial cannot determine what happens next because of the swirl of dancers, but he doesn’t like what he has seen.
He puts on a smile and asks the bored-looking consort of a merchanter, who is talking to another merchanter, to dance. The brunette immediately smiles and inclines her head. Her consort barely glances in her direction as Lerial leads her out into the dancers.
Two dances pass before Rhamuel returns, and Lerial immediately makes his way to join the arms-commander.
“You have a worried look,” Lerial says.
“The piers at Estheld are crowded with merchanters. This afternoon until just before sunset a number set sail, all heading northwest out of the bay.”
“That doesn’t make sense. You don’t have any ports or places they could land to the northwest, do you?”
“Only Baiet, and if Khesyn were going to attack Swartheld, there’s little point in landing more than fifty kays northwest and then march back.”
“Do you think he’s going to attack Nubyat and try to take over Merowey?”
“That would be a problem for us both,” Rhamuel points out.
“We don’t want to support Casseon, and we don’t want Khesyn surrounding us on all borders. I assume that’s what you mean.”
Rhamuel nods.
“Where are the flatboats?”
“We don’t know. They left Luba. We all saw them leave Luba. They’re not at Estheld, not now, anyway.”
“Could they be upstream somewhere south of Swartheld?”
“It’s possible. It’s also possible that all those troopers are being loaded onto the merchanters. All we can do is watch … and wait.”
“You didn’t tell the duke.”
“I’ll tell him after the ball is over, in the family quarters, when everyone is gone. Otherwise…” Rhamuel shakes his head.
Atroyan will tell too many people? Or his reaction will be public and unpleasant? “You can’t do anything now, anyway, can you?”
“Nothing that we should. I have sent word to cancel all leaves and passes until further notice. Your men are all at headquarters, and you’re here. So enjoy what’s left of the ball.” Rhamuel smiles.
Lerial can sense that the smile is forced, but he nods. “I think it’s time to ask your niece for another dance.”
“That’s a very good idea.”
Lerial waits until the music dies, then approaches the dais, where Kyedra stands, talking to Oestyn and Mykel. “If you would…”
“I would like that.” Kyedra turns to Mykel, beside her. “If you wouldn’t mind.”
“I can’t compete with Lerial,” replies Mykel with a broad smile. “Nor would I wish to.”
Lerial takes her hand, and as the music begins, he takes a step, then slips into following her rhythms.
“You did wait a while.”